So it’s official :). I’ve made column in Discovery-Sunday Vision Magazine! I am so very chuffed, mostly because that’s what I started out wishing, hoping, yearning for.
Wait. That’s a lie.
I started out wanting my articles to appear on the same page as Ernest Bazanye’s. It happened. I write Plan B with him and a couple of other people. And then WHAM. column. YAY.
Thanks to my column anxiety, I chose a safe subject for my first piece.
P.s I don’t like that caricature.
Heschuse me, I’m preddier.
AT STILETTO POINT:
There are few things that are truly addictive, that can wrap you up in such a blanket of obsession that the thought of going without them makes you just want to, well, die. Note that I said things. I don’t think people can be addictive.
I can only vouch for four things: raw mangoes, clay, good manicures and piercings.
Most people, when they venture into the world of body piercing go for their fat, cushy, inviting, virgin ear lobes. The lobes seem to yell ‘puncture me! Shoot me with a piercing gun’ and these first pins always make people look so sweet and angelic and ka pretty that even their mothers approve.
Beware of the second piercing though for many times, it comes with a mania, a disease. A sneaky little demon. All of a sudden, you find that whenever you pass by any half decent saloon, your ears start to twitch and itch in their desire to be pierced. Whenever you have an idle moment, your hands fly to your ears to feel for space. You’re completely consumed.
Now as a child, I had ears. Enormous ears. Ears so large that they sat on either side of my face like fans, no, jug handles. They looked like miniature elephants and would sway dangerously every time that I moved. Looking at old photos, I’m surprised I was able to move at all.
When, with the passing of time, my hormones started yelling ‘SELF EXPRESSION!!’ lightly at first, and then so gutturally that I’d have probably chopped my arms right off just to be, you know, different. Anyway, my ears, being such a big part of my life were the obvious canvass for this expression. I quickly stabbed 15 holes into them.
Though there was something badass about having 8 new piercings on my face at the same time (it said great things about my threshold for pain) there was definitely nothing awesome about the sickly sweet smell of healing ear meat that constantly hung around my face. I just couldn’t be bothered with disinfecting them!
You’ve seen mad people get pissed off about being stared at, haven’t you? That’s sort of how my friends and I were. There we were, three young girls roaming the streets with a whooping 32 facial piercings among-st us and we’d get offended when people would stop and gawk. Seriously?!
I know now that if you walk around looking like a travelling circus, people are going to stop and stare, just in case you pull oranges out of your ears and start to juggle (which is why I’ve invested in a gorgeous clown suit).
As a direct result of having an impressively butchered ear you encounter many many many kinds of idiots:
The Ooos and Ahhs: to these ones, the holes in your ear/face/ assorted body parts are the only interesting thing about you. It doesn’t occur to them that you’re maybe interested in discussing anything other than piercings. With everybody’s attention being exclusively directed to your ears, you start to feel, um, jealous of them.
The ones with a ridiculous notion that your piercings are an opening act to such craziness that they must hang around you to document it. If you dare to disappoint them by being regular old you, they’re going to invent stories, my friend, so that within one day, you’ll have raped all the people at one house party, pissed in the punch bowl at another and dropped out of school. Never mind your 5pm curfew.
The copy cats: The pain, irritation and iffy smells that come with piercings all combine to make you feel almost maternal towards them. Your best friend becomes a stupid heifer when she decides to get the same piercing as you. An already annoying acquaintance becomes dead to you when she informs you that your ears are where she does her piercing scouting. Idiot. Don’t you have a mirror?
I finally got so tired of resenting my ears and their admirers that I decided to stop wearing jewellery for a while. My relatives rejoiced thunderously. My ears were grateful for the holiday from metal.
But when my birthday rolled by last month, I felt the ol’ demon stirring. After months of peace, my urge for a new piercing was overwhelming! If I’d ignored it, my birthday would have been ruined; so I went and got the snake bite that I’d been dreaming of for years. It hurts like death and makes me feel like a loser for giving in to the demon, but it looks absolutely gorgeous, so there. No regrets :).